A Dance with Danger

Chapter fifty-Seven

**Estelle's POV**

I finally surface from the gym, all sweaty and tired, every muscle aching from the relentless training. My limbs feel like lead, but I’m not about to let it show. I’ve pushed myself harder than I ever thought I could, and now the exhaustion is settling in. It’s a strange mix of satisfaction and frustration—satisfaction because I know I’ve given everything, but frustration because I still haven’t reached the level I need to be at. 

I move slowly, my steps heavy as I head for the bedroom. The door creaks slightly when I push it open, the familiar smell of the room comforting me as I walk to the bathroom. The cool tile beneath my feet feels like a blessing as I peel off my soaked clothes and step into the shower. 

The water hits me like a wave, easing some of the tension in my muscles. I close my eyes, letting the heat wash over me, as if it could also wash away the lingering frustration from the gym. Tiberius’ smirks and comments, the way he pushed me, made me question my abilities more than I care to admit. I know he’s right, but it’s hard to accept. I’ve always prided myself on being strong, on being capable. And yet, every time I face him in the ring, I’m reminded that I’m still not enough. 

The sound of the water rushing over me drowns out my thoughts for a while. I focus on the sensation, trying to clear my mind. When I finally step out of the shower, the exhaustion hits me full force, but I force myself to move. 

Wrapped in a towel, I head toward the kitchen, hoping food might give me the energy I need to shake off this funk. 

As soon as I walk into the kitchen, I spot Inessa standing at the counter, plating tacos with the precision of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. The smell of seasoned meat and fresh toppings fills the air, making my stomach growl in appreciation. 

Inessa turns to look at me as I shuffle into the room. "You look well tired," she says, her tone light but knowing. 

I drop onto the nearest chair, too tired to even think about standing any longer. "Yeah, I feel it," I mutter, rubbing my temples. 

She sets the plate down in front of me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I’m sure you pushed yourself too hard. Tiberius doesn’t know when to let up." 

I snort softly. "He doesn’t know the meaning of the word 'let up.'" I pick up the taco in front of me, taking a bite, and the explosion of flavors instantly lifts my mood. "This is exactly what I needed." 

Inessa watches me for a moment, her dark eyes softening. "You’re doing well, Estelle. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’re improving." 

I nod, though the words don’t fully comfort me. I know she’s right, but it’s hard to believe when I can still feel the sting of every failed attempt to land a decent hit on Tiberius. He’s always two steps ahead of me, always faster, always stronger. 

The sound of the door opening pulls me from my thoughts, and I glance up to see Tiberius walking into the room. He’s changed out of his gym gear into a pair of sweatpants, his hair still damp from his own shower. His eyes flicker to me for a moment, but then he turns his attention to the laptop he’s carrying, setting it down on the counter as he begins to sift through the contents. 

I can’t help the muttered words that escape me. "Seems like he didn’t train at all." 

Inessa looks at me with an eyebrow raised, but I can tell she’s trying not to smile. 

Tiberius doesn’t even glance up from his laptop. "I’m used to it," he replies, his tone almost lazy, like he couldn’t care less about my jab. 

I roll my eyes, taking another bite of the taco as I try to ignore the way my frustration with him continues to simmer beneath the surface. He’s always like this—cool, calm, collected. Always one step ahead, always the one in control. It’s like he knows exactly how to push my buttons, and he does it with ease. 

"How was your session?" Inessa asks, glancing between the two of us. 

Tiberius doesn’t even look up from his laptop. "Standard." 

I narrow my eyes at him. "Standard? You mean I pushed myself to the brink of exhaustion for a ‘standard’ session?" 

His lips curl into a half-smile, still not looking at me. "You were fine. You just need to work on your footwork and timing." 

"I’ll have you know I *was* working on my footwork," I snap, not able to help myself. "And I *was* timing my movements." 

"Not well enough." Tiberius’ voice is casual, detached, as if he’s simply stating a fact rather than insulting me. 

I feel my blood boil. "You don’t have to be so damn condescending." 

He looks up at me for the first time, those dark eyes of his locking onto mine. "I’m not being condescending, Estelle. I’m being honest. If you want to win, you need to put your ego aside and listen." 

I open my mouth to argue, but I stop myself. His words hit too close to home. I do need to listen. I know that. But it’s hard to swallow my pride, to admit that I’m not as good as I thought I was. 

Tiberius sees the hesitation in my eyes and presses on, his gaze never leaving mine. "You’ve got potential, but potential means nothing if you don’t learn how to harness it." 

I want to argue, want to tell him that I don’t need his help, that I’ve trained my whole life, but the words die on my lips. Because deep down, I know he’s right. 

Inessa clears her throat, cutting through the tension in the room. "Enough fighting for one night, you two. There’s food, and you’re both too tired to keep going at each other." 

I drop my shoulders, letting out a long sigh. She’s right. I can feel the exhaustion creeping up on me, and I’m not in the mood for another round of verbal sparring. I grab my taco and take another bite, chewing in silence as the weight of the day settles on me. 

Tiberius finally glances away from me, focusing once again on the screen of his laptop. "I’ll leave you to your tacos, then," he says, voice neutral. 

I don’t answer him. There’s no point. He’s never one to get wrapped up in emotions, and I’m too drained to even try. 

The room falls into a quiet rhythm, the sound of Inessa’s movements in the kitchen and the occasional click of Tiberius’ laptop the only noise. For a moment, it feels peaceful, like we’re just three people, sharing a meal in a quiet house. No pressure, no expectations. 

But even as I sit there, eating in silence, I know the peace won’t last. Tiberius and I will go back to our training tomorrow. He’ll keep pushing me until I’m better—until I’m strong enough to stand against him. And I’ll keep fighting, because I know that’s the only way forward. 

For now, though, I can take a breath. I can savor this moment of calm before everything starts again. 

But deep down, I know the real battle is just beginning.